Hermione Granger and the Secret Admirer
by Censorship is a Cancer
Summary: Full summary inside. Rated M for later chapters.
1. The Beginning

_A/N: This is pretty much a rewrite of the sixth book of Harry Potter. Hermione receives a letter that was directed to a different Gryffindor, replies to it in her normal, smart-ass type of way and letters continue to be exchanged from this male with a hidden identity. They grow to become pen-pals throughout the year and decide to meet at the Halloween Ball. I own nothing except the plot._

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**Hermione Granger and the Secret Admirer**

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_And I don't want the world to see me.  
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand._  
_When everything's made to be broken.  
I just want you to know who I am._

* * *

"Hermione!" Came Ginny's persistent voice. Slowly, but surely, young Miss Granger awoke from her lovely sleep and rested her squinted eyes on her best friend. Ginny seemed to give her a sly smile before she patted Hermione's stomach. "C'mon, lovely. Time to get up for class." Hermione groaned a moment, but forced herself up out of the comfortable bed.

Now in her sixth year at Hogwarts, much to Hermione's pride, her hair had tamed to luscious, full curls. Her body was filling out nicely and her former buck teeth were straight, even and pearly white. Had she not worn baggy robes, the boys would've certainly taken note of such changes. As it stood, she still played off the same brainy bookworm that everyone had come to know and love (or hate) from first year.

Excitement shot through her being. It was the first day back at school! How could she not be excited? As per usual, she had studied her new text books over the summer, making sure she was prepped well for the courses she'd decided to take.

Her shower was quick, leaving her smelling of Hawaiian Ginger all over. She'd been sure to dry her hair with a quick spell, checking it in the mirror to make sure the ringlets weren't standing out on end. She was satisfied to see that her shoulder-length chocolate tresses were shiny and tamed. She didn't linger long, merely applying a bit of cover-up before she got dressed and headed down to the Great Hall with Harry and Ron for breakfast.

* * *

"So what class do we have first, Hermione?" Asked Ron, who got a small, almost playful glare from his friend.

"Honestly, Ron, you'd think you'd at least look at your schedule _once_ the night before your first day." Cautiously, she unfolded the piece of paper, ignoring Ron's nonchalant shrug while he stuffed his face. "Don't forget to chew." She instructed without looking up from her schedule. She could almost feel him rolling his eyes at her. "Alright. We have Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. At least it's a good start to the morning." She sighed happily, beginning to eat quickly so she could start walking for her class.

However, she ceased mid-chew when she felt a pair of steely eyes on her. Slowly, she cast her gaze upwards from her plate, glancing towards where she felt it was coming from. Finally, her eyes settled on a familiar Slytherin's. Their lines of sight locked immediately. Why in Merlin's name was Draco Malfoy staring at her? Hermione adopted a confused look before she realized that he was merely dazing off.

The first thing she had noticed was that he hadn't touched a speck of food on his plate. Not just that, but normally Malfoy always seemed so composed and calm. Now, he looked... nervous, almost worried to the brink of insanity. His hand was trembling with the fork in it, as though some morbid realization had struck him, a realization that he knew he couldn't run away from. Hermione had to be honest, it scared her quite a bit. He seemed completely preoccupied with his thoughts, something Hermione had never seen before in her life.

It had taken him a moment to realize that he was staring right through Granger's head. He shot her a sneer, she shot one back and both returned to their plates of food, neither moving to eat.

"Think that we're going to be Prefects again this year, Hermione?" Ron asked in curiosity. Hermione seemed to ignore the question completely and stand from her seat, feeling suddenly exposed and... just odd.

"I'm going to head to class early. See you there?" She consulted her friends. Ron and Harry both nodded to her in confirmation. Hermione hardly waited for them to respond before she broke away and made her way out of the Great Hall.

Ron motioned with his thumb in Granger's direction. "What was that all about? She was fine a few moments ago." Harry could only shake his head.

"I have no idea."

* * *

Classes had gone very well for Hermione and the moment she'd stepped into the Gryffindor common room, she moved to sit next to Ron, who was playing Wizard's Chess with Harry... and winning, as per usual.

"You know we're Prefects again, right?" Ron said to Hermione. Granger turned to him and grinned widely.

"We are?!" She asked excitedly, her face bright with excitement.

"Yes! Your letter should be on your bed. That's where mine was." He barely had the option of finishing his sentence before Hermione had disappeared up the steps of the girls' dormitory.

There was the letter! Hermione scrambled onto her bed to pick it up, but knitted her tweezed eyebrows together in confusion once she realized that it had no name addressed on it. She opened it curiously, peeking at the short sentences inside.

_'I look forward to our date. Remember: Black Lake at nine sharp. - D.'_

"Oh, this has _got_ to be a big mistake." Hermione muttered to herself. She noticed a bald eagle perched on her sill, obviously awaiting her response letter. She shook her head, then scribbled something on the bottom of the note, attaching it to the bird's leg before sending it off. "There. That was nicely taken care of. Hopefully no more problems." She had turned back to her bed, but her heart sank into her toes when she realized there was no other letter waiting for her. Was she not Prefect this year?

* * *

Draco's head turned up to his window when he heard the familiar beak of his eagle tapping against it. He crossed the boys' dormitory floor and opened the window, peering into the bird's eyes for a moment.

"Lucky bloody bird. You can fly away anytime you want to." He envied before unhooking the letter from the bird's leg and opening it, reading the fine penmanship inside.

_'I believe you've reached the wrong tower, though I hope your date does not deceive you. Have a good night. - H."_

Wrong tower? Draco was sure he had it right. Gryffindor tower, Fiona Applegate. She was a fourth year, but very easy on the eyes. She seemed to approach him after dinner to ask about his reputation (in bed, that was). He'd assured her she was correct and they'd made plans.

* * *

Soon, that same eagle had returned to Gryffindor tower and pecked on Hermione's window. Cautiously, she opened it, taking the letter it held out to her and unfolding it curiously.

_'I was fairly certain I'd sent this to Gryffindor tower. If this is not who was supposed to receive this letter, then why go snooping in other people's mail? - D.'_

By this point, Hermione was slightly offended. She grabbed a new piece of parchment, then began her longer note. Once she had finished it, she tossed her hair out of her face and arose from her bed, then gave it to the eagle, who had flown off with it on swift wings.

* * *

Ah, good. Draco heard the pecking against the window again and crossed the threshold once more to open it. He decided to leave it open, so his eagle could have a bit of a free night to fly about as he pleased. He thinned his lips slightly, reading the reply that had been sent to him.

_'I found it lying on my bed, thank you very much. And you were not mistaken, this is Gryffindor tower, but just the wrong lady. Once again, I hope your date does not deceive you. You do seem persistent enough. Might I get the name of said lady waiting for your word of notice? Perhaps I can let her know that you're waiting for her. It's the least I can do. - H.'_

Draco had thought for a moment about replying with a name, but the last thing he wanted was to be spied on by another Gryffindor. Though they were supposed to be loyal, honorable and truthful, he didn't trust them worth shit. Especially in his current state.

* * *

Hermione had wound up falling asleep after her last letter had been sent. It seemed that whomever was persistent on this date wasn't interested anymore. She'd decided it wasn't worth waiting up for. Though her curiosity was gut-wrenching, she needed to give her eyes a rest for her morning classes. She didn't even know if she was a Prefect again or not.

She was jerked from her pleasant slumber when she heard that familiar tapping against her window. She groaned and hoped that it would go away if she just pretended to sleep for a bit more. Fifteen minutes soon passed and the bird kept tapping. Hermiong groaned in frustration and shot out of bed before the girls in the dorm could begin complaining. She flung the window open and snatched the note from the bird's beak, opening it and reading it.

_'That won't be necessary. The date really was not that important anyway. Though talking to you has intrigued me somewhat. Normally, anyone in Gryffindor who got this note, I suspect, would have turned it in to the Heads, but you offered to pass it along to the soul of which it was intended. Why is that? - D.'_

Hermione shrugged to herself and scribbled a few sentences on the back of the note, then sent it back with the bird and crawled into bed, hoping for her new sleep not to be interrupted.

* * *

Draco was still waiting at the window for his eagle to return. Once he had, he eagerly snatched the note from the bird's beak, reading over the short reply.

_'Common courtesy, I suppose. Not to mention I'm no brown-noser. I had not been meant to read such a private note, but I did because it was misplaced. The least I could do was offer to pass it along to the person it was meant for. I would love to pass letters back and forth all night, but unfortunately, I must be off to bed. Sweet dreams and I hope you can at least explain the mix-up to your supposed-to-be date. - H'_

Finding a sense of security in the girl's words, Draco paused before grabbing a new piece of parchment and his quill, scribbling a few sentences before sending his beloved eagle off once more.

* * *

Hermione groaned once more when the bird tapped at the window, tossing the covers off and crossing the threshold to take it up and read it.

_'My final note of parting for the night so you may sleep. I must admit, I appreciate a secret-keeper when I find one, so I thank you for not ratting me out. I'm sure I'll be able to explain everything to my "supposed-to-be" date in the morning. I have to say, it's refreshing, knowing that even someone in Gryffindor can be this sincere. Should I write you specifically, what may I call you? - D'_

Hermione contemplated this idea a moment. What would this boy be to her? A pen-pal? A friend that she could confide in? Maybe a stalker? She shuddered at the thought, but her curiosity just wouldn't let her stop from grabbing her quill and parchment and writing a response to this mystery man. The eagle flew off proudly and Hermione waited by the window for a moment before crawling back into bed, hoping for no more disturbances.

* * *

Draco unfolded the last note swiftly, reading it over.

_'Jean. You may call me Jean. Send me a name to call you tomorrow and I'll think about replying. - Jane.'_

Jean? How odd, he'd never met a Jean before. However, her last sentence made him chuckle slightly to himself. He laughed silently, something he hadn't been able to do in a while. She was a funny girl, he'd give her that.

Maybe, just maybe, things wouldn't be that bad this year.


	2. The Horrible Day

_A/N: From the abrupt two immediate reviews, I have to admit, I was instantly compelled to write another chapter. I do hope I'm keeping the characters remotely canon, though I've never written about a situation such as this before.  
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**Hermione Granger and the Secret Admirer**

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_Alright then, alright then.  
I could keep your number for a rainy day.  
That's where this ends.  
No mistakes, no misbehaving.  
Oh, I was doing so well.  
Couldn't we just be friends?  
I feel a weakness coming on.  
_

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Hermione awoke that morning half an hour earlier than she'd meant to. That same damned eagle was pecking at her window once more. She squinted tiredly and blinked a few times, registering the fact that her new pen-pal had, indeed, sent her another letter. She had lain there a moment, trying to decide whether or not she should read the note, but her curiosity was getting the better of her as it had the previous night. A sudden jolt of energy shot through her and she scurried from her bed to open the window. The bird dropped the note into her hand and she opened it.

_'Since I know that the name you chose must be fake, I'll be giving you a faux title as well. You may call me Mr. Black.'_

Hermione seemed to smile to herself, though a sudden sense of horror settled in the bottom of her stomach when she had realized what she had originally come up for last night in the first place: her Prefect letter. It wasn't here. Nothing was here except that _Mr. Black_ fellow. She took a deep breath, then released it. She scribbled a few words onto the same parchment sent to her, then gave it to the eagle, watching it take flight. Today was _not_ going to be a good day.

* * *

Draco noted his lucky eagle perched at the window once he'd exited the shower. He took up the note and noticed that it was his own. He perked a brow, then flipped it over, noticing that she'd written on the back of it.

_'How clever of you to crack my code. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Black. I hope your day is better than mine is turning out to be.'_

A pang of slight remorse hit his stomach. Only an hour and a half before breakfast and her day was already bad? Apparently being a Gryffindor wasn't all it was cracked up to be. He crumpled up the note and tossed it into the rubbish bin, continuing on to dry his hair and right himself before breakfast began. Though he wasn't really planning on socializing with anybody today, he wanted to remain presentable. It was part of Malfoy reputation, anyway.

* * *

"You think Hermione is still a Prefect? She never came downstairs last night." Harry intercepted Ron's meal, which was a rather large feat, since Weasley almost seemed to be making love to it. The redhead seemed to glance to Harry for a moment before his eyes shifted to the door, noting that the final member of the Golden Trio was walking towards them, a depressed look on her face.

"Yeah, I think so..." Ron drew out, watching Hermione's upset expression with curiosity. He decided to wait until she was sitting across from Harry and himself before he began to prod.

"You sure about that, Ron?" Harry asked, almost afraid of the obviously troubled female best friend approaching them. "She doesn't look too pleased with herself right about now."

"I never got the letter!" Hermione exclaimed, slamming an overly large book onto the table, which caused Ron and Harry to jump. Ron had leaned over to whisper in Harry's ear.

"I take that back, she definitely isn't a Prefect." Harry could only roll his eyes.

"How could I not be a Prefect? I can handle utmost responsibility fine and I can even take more classes than the average witch or wizard and still know exactly where my head is." She complained, solemnly poking and prodding at her food. Harry and Ron both glanced towards one another, then shrugged and began eating, not knowing what to say.

"Maybe... maybe your letter's just late, Hermione." Harry reassured her. Hermione shook her head, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears.

"No, no, McGonagall and Dumbledore always choose the Prefects and the Heads, if Ronald got his, then I should have gotten mine by now." Harry immediately shut his mouth after that, both boys now giving her a slightly remorseful look.

"We're sorry, Hermione." Ron said, reaching over to grasp her hand. Hermione had tears welling in her eyes. "Maybe they just wanted to give a fifth-year a try. Maybe they didn't think it was fair to name you Prefect twice in a row. I mean, you _were_ a Prefect last year." He rationalized. Hermione's gaze jerked up to meet his.

"You were too, Ronald, so don't talk to me about 'fair'." She snapped. Ron immediately stuffed his mouth with a bread roll to shut himself up. He'd said enough and had tried to calm her. Apparently she just needed to blow off steam.

The Golden Trio had gone immediately quiet at the table. Hermione seemed to eat only a few bites before she had departed to go and study before class. However, once she had exited the Great Hall, she ran directly into someone's hard chest and fell flat on her bottom, her ruthless, silken curls falling in front of her face. In anger and frustration, she puffed them out of her face and helped herself up.

"Watch where you're going Mudblood. You wrinkled my bloody suit." Chided the familiar, snobby tone from Draco Malfoy. That word... that word hit her hard, causing her to wince and arise fully, brushing off her skirt.

"Sod off, Malfoy." She snapped, but she was ignored. He was already in the Great Hall. She almost thanked Merlin for that, since she didn't want him to see the tears welling in her eyes. That _word_! How could one word immediately break her foundations and make that wall she'd spent so much time building crumble hopelessly to the ground. Hermione constantly chided herself for not being as tough as Harry or Ronald. She came immediately undone and exposed. Too much passion, she chided as she shut herself in the library, hiding behind her only source of comfort: a book.

* * *

Potions was the last thing Hermione was looking forward to, though Slughorn seemed to be a bit more lenient than Snape was. Not to mention Harry and Ronald had showed up late the first day, so there was really no issue, seeing as how she was friends with a "celebrity". She had been late leaving the library and the last seat available was by Blaise Zabini. He seemed to work with her alright, ignoring any potential conversation, just as she did. By now, she had dried her tears and acted like the normal, non-caring Gryffindor she always was. She had pointed out a few things he had missed kindly and he nodded in confirmation.

"Thanks for the help, Granger." Blaise said, though Hermione wasn't sure as to whether or not he was being serious. She merely nodded curtly once the class was over and packed up her things. She was on her way to her next class by the time Zabini had packed his own things.

* * *

The end of the day had come quicker for Draco than he had thought it would. He wound up in the common room, relaxing on the long, leather sofa. He'd leaned his head back for a moment, then cursed the broken silence by the sound of the opening portrait.

"That Granger is an interesting young woman." Blaise said once he'd noticed Draco. He rolled his eyes and cupped his hands behind his head.

"Please, Blaise, the last thing I want to hear about is any member of the Golden Trio." He groaned out before pulling a pillow to cover his face. Blaise sighed and took a seat in the armchair beside the couch, cracking his neck carelessly.

"I'm just saying. I'm astonished by the fact that she can be remotely civil with someone who thinks she's a filthy little Mudblood."

"That's because she's in Gryffindor. Gryffindor prides itself on diversity and all that shite we don't care about." Draco grumbled, his voice slightly muffled from under the pillow.

"Well, blood aside, she's grown quite attractive since last year." Draco immediately tossed the pillow from his face and shot a weird and astonished look to his best friend, who immediately adopted his own worried look. "What? She is." Were they really having this conversation? This _had _to be the stress of his current position getting to him. It simply _had _to be some nightmare he'd waltzed into.

"She looked like a bookworm last year, she looks like a bookworm this year, Blaise. Just... shut up about this. Please?"

"Alright, fine. Are you going to go to Hogsmeade this coming weekend? Daphne Greengrass agreed to accompany us." He prodded. Draco lay there a moment before he grabbed the pillow back up and shoved it over his face, groaning and slamming his eyes shut. "Come on, Draco, you haven't wanted to do anything since the Dark Lord gave you your assignment." Draco pulled the pillow from his face and pointed at his friend.

"That's not true. I wanted to sit around in my bathrobe and eat chocolate frogs all day." Blaise chuckled at this before Draco added, "I wanted to start taking shots of Firewhiskey in the morning--don't say that I don't have goals." His best friend laughed louder this time.

"Oh, come on. If you go, then this weekend just might get your mind off of everything, if only for the time being. And if not... then... everyone will be angry because you're the only one who can make Pansy shut the bloody hell up. C'mon." He insisted. Draco rolled his eyes and pushed himself up off the couch.

"Alright, fine. But I don't like... you." He muttered before disappearing into his dormitory, leaving Blaise to his humor from Draco's inner anguish. He had more important things to tend to, such as this Jean character.


	3. The Proposition

_A/N: Wow, thank you all so much for the reviews. I will be making this chapter longer, so you all may enjoy the clashing of these two worlds. I own nothing but the plot.  
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**Hermione Granger and the Secret Admirer**

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_Six thoughts at once, I can't focus on one.  
Seven days a week, but my life has just begun.  
So caught in emotion that I'm overcome.  
As I'm falling down, I come undone._

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The sense that the heir to this secret letter was unaware of his identity made Draco feel much safer. The girl he was speaking to was unacquainted with his name, his age, everything. He intended to keep it that way. The idea of having some secret person all to himself that he could spill himself to comforted him to the highest of levels. So, through the week, Draco would send this "Jean" character letters and they would grow more aware of one another, finding conversation simpler than they'd imagined. He was very cautious with what information he gave away. The conversations were kept simple, sometimes going into depth of a few things, such as taste in music and poetry.

That Friday, at dinner, Draco could hardly eat. He wanted to go back to his dormitory and send a letter over to the Gryffindor tower. Being in his scenario, he didn't have much that he could lean on, nothing to turn his mind onto other things. The only thing that seemed to comfort him remotely were the exchanged letters between him and that Gryffindor. Jean gave him a sense of balance and hope that he never thought he'd experience in his horrific state.

* * *

She had found out that day that Ginny Weasley had been picked for Prefect. Hermione seemed completely able to withhold her disappointment in herself and congratulate her good friend on such a fantastic accomplishment. Though Hermione had hoped to be Prefect two years in a row, she didn't mind stepping aside to let Ginny get the celebration for her hard work that seemed to finally be paying off.

It had stopped mattering to her after she'd started talking to Mr. Black, anyway. The man consumed her thoughts more than she dared to admit. Someone with actual brains who could hold a conversation and not hop onto the subject of Quidditch, brooms, girls, chess or copying her homework. It was nice to discover someone who only wanted to talk and share things with her. Someone who thought she was brilliant and vivacious and more fun to talk to than to simply ogle like a caveman. It made her feel wanted, something Hermione had never truly experienced before. Certainly, she was always aware that in their adventures, her brains was required to help Harry and Ronald out of certain scrapes and she was square with that. However, the knowledge that someone needed her for something other than brains, something other than knowledge, but for emotional support was something that made her feel so fulfilled and important.

Of course, at dinner, Hermione could hardly hold back her giddiness. She wanted to get back to her dormitory so she could be the first to send a letter to her correspondent. She almost hadn't finished the food in her mouth before she stood from her seat and bid swift "goodnights" to her best friends. Mr. Black was slowly becoming a vice that she couldn't shake, no matter how hard she tried.

She had exited the Great Hall, only to run into someone's back on the way out, knocking them to the ground. They took her along with them. Next thing she knew, she had opened her once tightly corseted shut eyes and quiet, soft earth met the eye of the storm. Oh, Merlin, please let this be a dream. She had blinked a few times while trying to shove herself up off of her accidental victim, but to no avail. Her legs seemed tangled with his and her arm was currently pinned under his stomach. She could feel it bruising already.

"Merlin's beard, Granger, get the bloody hell off me, you're wrinkling my robes!" Shouted Malfoy. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I would if you hadn't locked your legs with mine and pinned my innocent arm under your torso, Malfoy, now let me up!" She complained.

Draco seemed to realize that she was right, huffing in frustration and pushing himself up slightly, accidentally hitting her forehead with the back of his skull. Hermione's hand immediately flew up and covered her forehead, squeaking in pain as she fell back onto the floor. She had finally been able to rid herself of Malfoy's closeness, which had come as a big comfort to her. What she hadn't realized was that he hadn't walked off as he normally would. No... instead, he loomed over her, his slim (but strong) fingers closed over the front of her robes and pulled her so her nose was almost touching his. This scared her more than she would admit. She'd never been this close to Draco Malfoy. Normally, he was so adament on "keeping her Mudblood germs" off his clothes.

"Watch. Where. You're. Going. Mudblood." He snapped. Of course, Hermione did the first thing that came to her mind and brought her hand up to slap him. Much to her astonishment, Malfoy had reached up, stopping her hand in mid-air. "And don't slap me. It's just childish." He squeezed her wrist so hard she felt like her fingers were going to pop off of her hand. Her digits became tingly, a sign of the circulation being completely cut off.

"And you calling me 'Mudblood' isn't?" Hermione retorted in a voice that had been meant for rudeness, but came out shaken and squeaky. Tears filled her eyes. Damn that word! Damn him for using that word! Why did it always strip her defenses and leave nothing but vulnerability?

Draco chuckled. He chuckled! The bastard was laughing at her pain! Hermione's tears were immediately pushed back and she shoved hard against his chest, attempting to push him off of her with her other good hand. He remained in place, only squeezing her hand tighter. "Let me go, Malfoy!" She screeched, shoving hard against his chest again. She wanted out. He suddenly felt too close. His laughter wasn't helping in the slightest.

"Or what... Mudblood? What are you going to do about it?"

"Whatever it takes to get you off of me--"

"Mr. Malfoy." Came the lowly drawl that Hermione knew too well. Her eyes cast over to the one and only Professor Snape, who had a deadly gleam in his eye. His composure was always kept, even as he reached down and forcefully lifted Hermione's enemy from her body. She righted her tie and skirt and gathered the books she'd dropped, placing them back in her bag while holding her bruised wrist to her chest. "Miss Granger..." she turned to her Potions teacher warily. "I suggest you go see Madame Pomfrey. Also... I suggest you keep this matter to yourself." That said, he shoved Draco in the direction of the dungeons. Hermione only stood in awe. Was that a threat? Something was not right with the Slytherins this year, she mused while shaking her head.

* * *

"You must think rationally, Draco. Your anger is not to be wasted on Muggle Borns. Hermione Granger will be the least of your worries when the time comes." Snape instructed him. Draco could only shoot him a harsh glare.

"I'm sure you know my situation, Severus. As such, you might be a little more aware than others that I'm not really in the right mind enough to think rationally! I'm in a position no 16-year-old should be in and you know that." At this point, Draco's vioce was quivering in fear and worry. His parents would be killed if he didn't go through with this. His parents would get the punishment, not him. Why... why did it have to be him chosen for such a thing?

"If you want to even remotely impress the Dark Lord, you must let your judgement of right and wrong cloud over and focus on the task at hand. Don't worry about putting the Mudbloods in their place, Draco. They'll all be dealt with soon enough. Including Miss Granger." He said in a slithering tone. Snape had made an Unbreakable Vow to take care of Draco and make sure he wouldn't get hurt. He intended to keep it.

"I don't think I can do this, Severus--" Draco began, but received a hard backhand across the face from his Professor. He could taste blood in his mouth now. He must have bitten his tongue. Lightly, he touched his right cheek, feeling it sting and redden, contrasting heavily to his pale face.

"Don't ever say that, Draco. You're just as much capable of handling this task and you'll have me aiding you the entire way. Now go to bed, get some rest and begin in the Room of Requirements tomorrow." He instructed. Draco said nothing, merely nodding before he turned on his heel and made his way eagerly out of Snape's sight.

* * *

_'Mr. Black,_

_Do you think we've ever possibly met before?'_

Draco didn't know why, but the letter shot a warm feeling through his icy heart. Knowing that no matter what, Jean would still be there to talk to him about whatever he wanted, was beginning to make the Slytherin Prince feel like the only thing he had been missing, he'd found. He felt a sense of completion, a sense of restored dignity and pride. He smiled for a second at the paper, then brought out his quill and began to write.

* * *

It seemed to have taken Mr. Black forever to reply to her letter. Normally he was in his dormitory at this time. Granger had tried her best to wean herself onto her homework, but a sense of worry had caught the pit of her stomach, causing her heart to drop with an inner **CLUNK! **into her toes. What if he had been detained by something bad? What if he was sick? What if he was injured or in trouble?

She paused, shook her head and turned her head from the window to the parchment before her, which only seemed to have a few sentences written on it. Damn the man, he was taking her attention away from her work! How could one anonymous pen-pal hold such sway over her? Especially one that belonged in Slytherin? It was impossible, inconceivable! Something that Hermione never thought she'd be girlish enough to get into.

Granger had never been the typical female. She hardly paid attention to her fashion sense or her hair and she never wore make up. Well... okay, she did, but only a bit of coverup and blush. She never had the time for boys and even when she made time, it never worked out. So why was she making an exception for someone who was certainly not her type anyway? It made very little sense to her, though once she had come to that conclusion... she'd discovered she didn't care in the slightest.

He made her laugh, he made her smile and he made her happy. Weren't those all the elements she needed? Weren't those all the elements that she'd silently screamed and begged for? Maybe this Slytherin wasn't such a waste of her time, after all.

A familiar pecking sound on her window almost caused Hermione to jump from her bed and trip over her own shoes on her way to letting the eagle inside. She was almost bitten by the bird for snatching the note from his beak. Eagerly, she opened the parchment and skimmed what Black had said.

_'Maybe we have, Jean, though I doubt I would have liked you. Gryffindors and Slytherins aren't exactly best friends.'_

Hermione couldn't help but laugh softly at the statement. When the man was right, he was right. She grinned lightly, scribbling down a few words and sending them back with the irritated eagle.

Maybe this night wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

By the end of September, Jean and Mr. Black had become almost smitten with one another. Their compatability was astonishing to them both, given their houses. Of course, given Draco's infatuation with Jean, he had spent the last two weeks of the month asking her who she was. She never gave in, never sent him a sign or a hint as to who she really was. Why would one woman be so adament about hiding her identity? What could Jean have to be afraid of? She told him she was slim, she was pretty and she wasn't a lesbian and was most definitely a girl. That alone made him want to meet her. Much to his chagrin, she continued denying him. That only made him want to meet her more.

Word around the school was that the Prefects had consulted the Heads to conduct a Halloween Ball. The Heads had consulted the professors, who seemed to love the idea. The ball would be taking place for fifth, sixth and seventh years that October 31st. Draco had taken this announcement as a good sign and had taken it upon himself to write to Jean the weekend of the Ball. He knew she was planning on going anyway, so why not meet her there?

Once he had reached his dormitory, he'd immediately gone for the parchment, scribbling a few sentences onto it and sending it off to Gryffindor tower.

* * *

Hermione was already at her window, staring out into the night, stuck in her brooding and contemplation. She couldn't tell him who she was, he'd hate her for sure. No Slytherin in their right mind wanted to be seen with Hermione Granger and she knew it. To be honest, she never thought that she woudl become so attached to this Mr. Black. She never thought that her curiosity could take her so far and she hated herself for that. What was going to happen if he found out who she was?

She couldn't think too much on it now, since the very Mr. Black's eagle was now perched before her, holding the note for her to read. Hermione decided she'd worry about it later. Maybe Black would only want small conversation tonight. He did say he had a lot on his plate to deal with this year. Hesitantly, she reached out and took up the parchment, unfolding it and almost dropping it out the window when she saw what was written inside.

_'Meet me at the Halloween Ball. I'll be standing in the middle of the dance floor at nine o'clock. I promise not to judge, my sweet Jean. Have kind dreams of me.'_

Hermione's breath caught in her chest. Oh, this could not be good.


End file.
